Comfort
by tectrices
Summary: prompt: plausible, non-canon kiss.  Very, very light Jayne-Zoe.


Jayne sighed and knocked on the hatch. "Zoe? Ya there?"

No answer. He didn't want to be there, didn't want to talk to a mourning woman. But last time Mal had tried to coax her out the gorram idiot got something thrown at him. And then all the women-folk, Kaylee, Inara, even little crazy girl, were all worried and though Jayne sure as hell could say no to Mal, he felt a little more guiltful if he tried to say it to one of them.

He tried again. "Zoe? Zoe, if'n you want, we got – "

"Jayne, go away. I'm going to stay in here as long as I damn well want and I'd thank you to remember that my doings are none of your rutting business."

The merc growled a little under his breath, his hand in a fist on the hatch. "Look, y'think I came down here on my own accord? Hell no. I know better than to mess with a woman what's upset. But you want to see Kaylee lookin' at you like her eyeballs're 'bout to burst? What in the sphincter o' hell was I s'posed to do?" She didn't answer and Jayne rolled his eyes. "They're worried about you, Zo. This whole gorram boat cares an' you act like that don't matter?" He paused. "It's been over a year."

There was a rustle from below and the next moment an irate Zoe emerged, leveling Jayne with a burning, vengeful gaze. Ever one for self-preservation, he backed up as she climbed out. "Is that supposed to mean something?" she demanded. Her eyes were hard and her chest was heaving as she fought to keep herself under control. "Is a year all it takes to forget? To make things better?"

"Zoe… Gorrammit, that ain't what I'm saying."

"Then leave me the hell alone. I'm still grievin' so let me grieve."

"We don't want you t'forget the little man, Zo. But you ain't healin'. 'Nara says all this stuff 'bout movin' forward an'…" He frowned. "I ain't sayin' I'm worried 'r nothin' but the others… 'specially Kaylee – an' Mal, the gorram pansy-ass, are gettin' all worked up an' upset 'bout you shuttin' yourself away all the time. We ain't askin' you to forget. They jus' want you to come back out into the 'verse with all the rest o' us." He gave her a significant look, his eyes full of an emotion he rarely expressed. "You think there ain't no one else feelin' loss?"

Zoe stared at him, the tension palpable. She knew all that – had everyone on the crew say it at one time or another. But that didn't make it easy.

"Aww, go se, Zo, are you 'bout to cry?"

She started and then, like a bubble bursting, she started to laugh. Jayne just stared, dumbfounded, as she laughed – until he noticed the tears rolling down her cheeks.

"Gorrammit," he muttered to himself, stepping forward. Zoe didn't take the invitation, so awkwardly he put an arm around her and patted her on the crown of her head. "I ain't good with the comfortin'," he warned. "But you're lookin' like you need it. I could go get 'Nara…"

Zoe just ignored him; but – almost reluctantly – she sank into his embrace, her head on his chest and one arm around his thick waist. He ran one hand soothingly down her back, letting her cling to him silently. He'd dealt with weepy women before, but they'd been hysterical, clutching at him with sharp nails and shaking shoulders. Zoe was just… still. Like there was so much sorrow in her that she couldn't let it out or it'd take her over. He held her a little closer, a little tighter.

"Uh, it's gonna be okay, Zo. You're on a good boat. S'don't… don't cry." He patted her awkwardly on the head.

"Jayne Cobb, you are probably the worst person at offerin' comfort I have ever met." She pulled away a little and gave him a look that was almost a smile. "I'm not sure I'm keen to take it."

"Hell, Zoe, ain't like I'm tryin'." He wiped her cheek roughly with the pad of his thumb, still a little unsettled by seeing her upset. "Never claimed to be good at this."

"I know." She sighed, shaking her head. "He was my world, Jayne. No matter how much the rest o' y'all mean to me… There was no one else." She quieted, suddenly, and Jayne could almost hear the sob in her throat. He wrapped both arms back around her, one at her waist and one snaked up her back, his hand soothing and large at the nape of her neck.

For a time, neither spoke. Then Jayne said, "Never even knew his name was Hoban."

And Zoe laughed, full, deep, and she shook against him, hand fisted in his shirt. She pulled away again, really smiling, her eyes sparkling and soft, full of pain but full of something else, too. If Jayne had to put a name to it – if Jayne _could_ have put a name to it – he might have called it gratitude. And Zoe put one hand to his face, almost cupping his cheek, her thumb running down the bridge of his nose, over his lips, skimming the smooth edge of her nail down his chin. Jayne grabbed her wrist, his grip gentle if not tender, and held her hand just over his mouth.

He kissed her palm, his lips chapped and rough, his mouth open – just a little – for three long, quivering seconds. His eyes were closed, barely, and Zoe didn't look up even as she heard the soft sound of his lips leaving her skin. He held her hand there for a moment longer, and she could feel the warmth of his breath as he exhaled across the damp mark he'd left, a sudden, quickening heat in her chest. "Zoe. You're a… fine, _fine_ woman," he breathed, letting her wrist fall out of his hand, "but – "

"Ain't nothin' to say, Jayne," she told him. She moved closer, her head pillowed and breasts pressed against his firm wall of chest, arms both wrapped tight around him. Strong fingers gingerly stroked the back of her neck. Her face crumpled and she tightened her hold, hands fisted in the warm material. "There ain't nothin' you need to say."

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Thanks for reading!


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